The Grief

January 22, 2025

Grief feels like a shadow that follows me wherever I go, sometimes distant, sometimes looming so close I can barely breathe. It's been a few weeks now, and yet the pain still lingers, like an open wound that refuses to heal. I never imagined it would be this overwhelming—this all-consuming. I had heard people talk about it before, but nothing could prepare me for the depth of it.

The hardest part is the unpredictability. Some days, I feel like I’m moving through life with a fog around me. On others, there’s an intensity that catches me off guard. A memory, a song, a passing scent, and suddenly, I'm back in that moment. Sometimes, I feel angry, almost resentful, of how everything continues as usual around me while I'm stuck in this silent chaos. It’s like the world doesn't pause for grief, but my own world has stopped entirely.

I think about the person I’ve lost all the time. It’s as if the space they once occupied is now filled with a hollow echo that never truly fades. I keep expecting them to walk through the door, to hear their voice in the next room, and each time I remember that they are gone, the weight feels just as heavy as the first time I heard the news.

The emotions come in waves. There are moments of quiet reflection, where I let myself feel the sadness fully, but then there are the periods where I try to numb it, to push it down and go on with my day. But the grief always resurfaces—sometimes softly, other times violently. I’ve learned that it’s not something that can be controlled. It has its own rhythm, its own pace. I try to honor it instead of fighting it.

There are things that help, though. I find comfort in writing, in pouring out my thoughts onto paper, even when I don't have the right words. Talking to others—sometimes just saying their name aloud—helps, too. I wonder if they ever feel like I do, like they’re carrying something too heavy for one person. But then, there’s also the isolation that comes with grief, the feeling of being utterly alone in your sorrow, even if others are nearby.

I try to remind myself that this is part of the process. That grief is not something that can be neatly wrapped up or finished in a set period of time. It's a journey, one with no clear destination. Maybe that’s okay. Maybe I don’t need to rush it. Maybe I need to learn to live with it, to allow it to reshape me.

I know I’ll never forget them. I know their absence will always be a part of me. But in time, I hope the pain will evolve. I hope the grief will transform into something gentler, something that allows me to remember them without feeling so lost.

For now, I will sit with it. Feel it. And let it be.

Tomorrow is another day.